Have you heard the name Jiang Yan before (Part 2)
Hearing Jiang Suizhi's suddenly heavy breathing on the other end of the phone, Lin Shengxi sensed that something was seriously wrong. After all, his sister-in-law had left the last time because of his father’s temper.
But this shouldn’t be happening. Jiang Yan was already dead, and the child had been born.
What purpose could there be in giving her a bank card now? It couldn’t possibly be because of Suizhi, could it?
Lin Shengxi’s heart suddenly skipped a beat as he recalled how his brother had been making frequent trips to London these past few days. Trembling, he asked, "Brother, wh-what’s going on?"
The only response was the monotonous dial tone.
"..."
After hanging up, Jiang Suizhi’s fingers trembled slightly. When he tried calling Le Qing again, her phone was turned off. The overwhelming surge of emotions triggered a physical reaction he couldn’t control—his body began to shake, and his thoughts spiraled into chaos.
One after another, the people he had wanted to keep close, to bind to himself, were slipping away. They disappeared just as he had laid himself bare, exposing every part of himself.
But he hadn’t even tried to restrain her.
He had only said one thing—just one sentence.
Yet she was rushing back to China day and night, determined to see Jiang Hechang again.
Why?
The person he longed to possess was slipping away without warning, and he couldn’t stop himself from imagining the worst. He even… wanted to drag her back by force, to keep her by his side where he could see her whenever he wanted, touch her whenever he pleased.
At this moment, Jiang Suizhi had completely forgotten his therapist’s advice about restraint. His mind was consumed with the need to seize Le Qing and demand an explanation.
What had he done wrong? How had he offended her?
He had given up everything—he had tried so hard to become as twisted as Jiang Yan.
Wasn’t that enough?
Jiang Suizhi’s breathing grew ragged, his eyes gradually reddening. His entire body felt as though it were being gnawed by ants, a numbing pain so intense that his face turned pale and his forehead beaded with sweat.
Once again, his nails dug deep into his palms, drawing blood. It wasn’t until droplets stained the carpet that he remembered the plane tickets.
Forcing himself to regain some semblance of rationality, he opened the medicine box, swallowed two pills, grabbed his coat, and walked out.
Jiang Hechang was still Jiang Hechang.
But he wasn’t Jiang Yan.
Even if Le Qing fled to the ends of the earth this time, he would drag her back.
Jiang Suizhi didn’t even know how he boarded the flight back to China. To make his mental state appear somewhat stable, he had taken a heavy dose of sedatives before arriving at the airport. But the side effects left his mind foggy.
Combined with days of sleeplessness, he drifted into a nightmare the moment the plane took off.
He dreamed of the day his mother died—how the community had helped cremate her, how he had carried her ashes back to their cold, empty home. He tried cooking for himself, just like she used to, but the undercooked food left him writhing in pain until he passed out. He wasn’t found until the next day, when relatives came to claim the house. During the struggle, his mother’s ashes were knocked to the ground, scattered and kicked around like he had been as a child.
He dreamed of scavenging for recyclables to sell, just to fill his stomach, only to end up in a brutal fight with a homeless man over a single bottle. The man threw him into a dumpster, where the stench and swarming flies nearly suffocated him. Bruised and battered, he barely managed to crawl out, then spent days burning with fever as he tried to tend to his wounds alone.
He longed for his mother to hold him again, but he despised the filth clinging to his skin.
From then on, he became strange—aching for comfort and touch, yet recoiling from it.
To keep a roof over his head, he endured.
The relatives who claimed they would take turns caring for him rarely showed up. He survived by picking through rotten vegetables at the market, cooking whatever he could.
Sometimes, he truly believed he wouldn’t make it—until, suddenly, the neighbors became kind, and the relatives vanished overnight. He began eating at others’ tables, studying, growing up.
For years, that house held only him. He grew accustomed to solitude, to endurance.
He thought he would live like this forever, guarding his mother’s tiny home.
Until Jiang Yan appeared.
He didn’t ask for much—no money, no power. Just one meal a day with Jiang Yan would have been enough.
But even that ended abruptly one day.
He never got to share that meal with Jiang Yan.
He would never get the chance.
The food he had prepared for Jiang Yan, his sister-in-law, and their nephew grew cold, untouched, until it was dumped into the trash.
Then the dream shifted—Le Qing stood before him, her words crisp and clear.
"Jiang Suizhi, I’m leaving."
Jiang Suizhi jolted awake, his heart pounding violently.
Whether from the nightmare or something else, the wounds on his palms felt more sensitive, more painful than ever.
But in his haste to leave, he hadn’t treated them. Now, the blood had long since dried, leaving his hands a gruesome sight.
Yet Jiang Suizhi didn’t even glance at them.
The moment his phone connected after landing, messages flooded in. But at the top were Le Qing’s.
Jiang Suizhi froze mid-step and opened them.
Le Qing: "Jiang Suizhi, I’ve decided on the terms of our bet."
Le Qing: "I want you to treat Le Jia and Le An as if they were your own children."
Le Qing: "I know it’s late to say this, but I want you to know that I’ve done my best for them—and for you—with a clear conscience. I’ve thought it over carefully. As much as I love Le Jia and Le An, my personal affairs are too complicated. Until I resolve them, I can’t give them the care they deserve. I’ve met your family and trust they’ll raise them well."
Le Qing: "I mentioned before that I set up a fund for them. The money is for their future, though I know your family doesn’t need it. Still, it’s my way of contributing. I left the card, along with something for you, at the front desk of your company. You can collect it when you return."
Le Qing: "For now, while the children adjust, I’ll stay away. But I hope, in the future, I’ll still be allowed to see them."
The last message had a long gap, as if she had deliberated before sending it.
Le Qing: "I’m sorry about your feelings. We’re not right for each other. I hope you find someone better suited to you."
Every sentence painted a vivid picture of her calm, composed demeanor—just like when they first met.
She was always like this, handling everything with logic and reason.
Cool-headed to the point of infuriating.
What did she mean by "personal affairs too complicated"?
He had only brought her breakfast once—how was that complicated?
Jiang Suizhi was trembling with rage, but when he called back, the other party's phone was still turned off. Had she shut it off right after sending him that message?
No.
Or had she blocked him?!
Jiang Suizhi rushed to the company building.
The receptionist was startled by the boss's disheveled appearance and bloodshot eyes, quickly handing over the item Le Qing had left at the front desk.
He thought it might be something meaningful, but it turned out to be the bracelet he had once gifted her—still in its pristine packaging, as if she had never even opened it.
At that moment, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over him from head to toe.
He didn’t even know if Le Qing had truly meant it when she said she accepted the gift as a friend.
Meanwhile, he had worn the watch she gave him every single day since receiving it, no matter what outfit he changed into.
Only he cared. Only he treasured it like a priceless gem.
Only he agonized over the lack of reciprocation, trying to console himself.
His head throbbed dully from days of overwork and too much medication.
The receptionist, afraid the boss might collapse right there, asked nervously, "Mr. Jiang, are you alright? Should I call an ambulance?"
"When did she leave?" Jiang Suizhi asked, eyes shut.
"She dropped this off last night," the receptionist answered cautiously.
Jiang Suizhi frowned. "At night?"
"Yes," the receptionist explained. "Right as we were about to leave work."
"Do you know where she went?"
The receptionist shook her head.
But another one suddenly remembered something. "Miss Le Qing took a taxi. I was waiting outside for my ride, and she said she was heading to the airport."
Jiang Suizhi turned sharply, his gaze locking onto the other receptionist. "Which airport? Where was she going?"
The receptionist had been curious about Le Qing after seeing her with Jiang Suizhi before, so she had struck up a conversation when Le Qing hailed a cab. Fortunately, Le Qing had been very approachable and shared a little.
Seeing Jiang Suizhi’s relentless intensity, the receptionist stammered, "She—she said she was going back to London."
Jiang Suizhi took a deep breath.
This time, he was truly going to be the death of himself.
Always one step too late. Just one step!
He snatched the card and the bracelet box, then stormed out as abruptly as he had arrived.
The receptionists exchanged bewildered glances.
What was wrong with the boss?
It almost looked like he and Le Qing had fought, and now it was a chase—like those cliché romance novels.
"I know this trope," the first receptionist said. "Runaway romance plots always go like this—the mother secretly leaves the child with the father and flees, and the domineering CEO chases after her, pins her against a wall, and growls, 'Woman, what more do you want from me? I’d give you my life.'"
The others nodded in agreement.
"Wait," another chimed in. "But in our case, the child belongs to the elder Mr. Jiang, not the younger one."
"That complicates things. There might even be some ethical drama involved."
They all shared a look and sighed—rich families were truly messy.
Jiang Suizhi raced to the airport and immediately called Lin Shengxi, who was in the UK. Lin Shengxi, already restless at work, answered instantly. "Hey, bro?"
"Check Le Qing’s recent flight back to the UK. Find out where she is now."
"She disappeared again?" Lin Shengxi smacked his forehead. "So your trip was for nothing?"
Jiang Suizhi’s voice turned icy. "I didn’t call for commentary. Find her. Now. I’m heading back."
Secretary Chen’s authority was limited, but Lin Shengxi had more connections.
"Got it, I’ll check right away!"
The call ended just as Jiang Hechang’s name flashed on Jiang Suizhi’s screen. Seeing those three characters made his head throb with anger, and he rejected the call without hesitation.
On the other end, Jiang Hechang was baffled, assuming his son must be in a meeting, so he sent a message instead: "I dropped the kids at kindergarten. I’ll pick them up tonight, but they said you haven’t checked in with them today. I couldn’t reach Le Qing—you handle it yourself."
Jiang Suizhi, already seething, nearly choked on his fury reading this.
How dare he act so self-righteous?!
But even in his rage, Jiang Suizhi clung to a shred of rationality. Back then, Jiang Hechang paying Le Qing to leave had been somewhat understandable.
But this time, there was no excuse.
Which meant they must have discussed something else.
Something wasn’t right.
Jiang Suizhi immediately called back, his voice dark with accusation. "What did you say to Le Qing?"
"What’s with that tone?" Jiang Hechang, who had intended to talk calmly, bristled at being questioned first. "I should be asking you! What did you do?"
The counterattack left Jiang Suizhi momentarily stunned. "What?"
"She told me to take the kids back. I said she should discuss it with you, but she claimed you two had a falling out. That same night, she had me pick them up, and then she flew back." Jiang Hechang’s voice hardened. "What the hell did you do?"
Jiang Suizhi’s mind went blank.
"That card… the one you gave her," he murmured. "What was it?"
"Card?" Jiang Hechang thought for a moment. "Oh, the one for the kids? She said it was savings for them. I told her she’d already done enough and refused it. See how thoughtful she is? Did you find anything after investigating her?"
Knowing his son could be irrational and obsessive, Jiang Hechang worried he might have overreacted upon discovering Le Qing wasn’t the children’s mother. Otherwise, why would they be at odds like this?
Jiang Hechang snapped, "Regardless, Le Qing took responsibility for those kids. I’m warning you—even if she’s not your sister-in-law, you can’t just do as you please!"
The word "sister-in-law" stabbed into Jiang Suizhi’s nerves like a trigger, sending him spiraling again.
Le Qing had even told Jiang Hechang about that.
Jiang Suizhi let out a cold laugh. "So what if she is?"
Jiang Hechang: "?"
"She’s not now, and she never will be." The more unhinged Jiang Suizhi became, the wilder his words. "She doesn’t belong to anyone. She’s her own person. So why can’t I do as I please?"
There was some twisted logic there, but Jiang Hechang sensed something deeply wrong.
He stammered, "What exactly do you mean by 'do as you please'?"
"What do you think I mean?"
It took Jiang Hechang a few seconds to process—then he exploded. "Jiang Suizhi! Have you lost your mind?!"
Driving that poor girl to this point, and still acting like he’d done nothing wrong!
Jiang Hechang roared, "If you lay a finger on Le Qing, I’ll break your legs!"
But Jiang Suizhi never cared about his father. Now that he had confirmed that Le Qing's departure had nothing to do with his dad, he roughly understood where the problem lay.
Ignoring Jiang Hechang's fury on the other end of the line, he turned off his phone and boarded the plane.
Yet even after landing, Lin Shengxi—known for his extensive information network—still couldn’t trace Le Qing’s whereabouts.
"Bro, I’ve checked. She did land in London, but after that, there’s no trace of her. No hotel registrations, no transportation records beyond the flight ticket. I even contacted the photographer she collaborated with—they wrapped up the shoot long ago and returned home. So she hasn’t had any work projects recently either."
Jiang Suizhi’s dark eyes grew stormy.
If there was no work, why had she come back at all?
Or was she repeating the past, vanishing abroad without leaving a trace for anyone to find?
Now, without any external help, how could she disappear so thoroughly here?
Jiang Suizhi refused to accept this. If he was going down, he’d do it with clarity—no way a few vague messages would suffice.
Wait—external help?
His mind flashed to the woman surrounded by bodyguards, walking alongside Le Qing that day. His brow furrowed tightly.
"Annie," he recalled the name, though not the surname. "Look into her. She’s closely connected to Lvy, the one who adopted Lan Xu."
"Annie?" Lin Shengxi didn’t even need to investigate. Since arriving, he’d interacted with many from that family. Only someone of that stature could be close to Lvy. "You mean that wealthy ethnic Chinese heiress? The one who’s blind?"
"You know her?" Jiang Suizhi asked.
"Of course. That family’s famous. She’s the only daughter of her generation, pampered since childhood. The only regret is her congenital blindness. If that’s who you mean, then we’re in for a challenge. With her family’s influence, hiding someone would be child’s play."
Only then did Jiang Suizhi realize how foolish he’d been—choosing not to investigate the people around Le Qing out of respect for her privacy.
Le Qing seemed deeply attached to this Annie.
Jiang Suizhi clenched his fists. "Get me all the relevant information and contacts for her family."
Meanwhile, Le Qing had arrived in the small town of Edensor on the outskirts of London. Her photography assignments were indeed finished; now it was just the shoot she’d promised Chelles.
Since she’d come straight from the airport with Annie, Chelles hadn’t arrived yet. She’d deliberately scheduled the meeting two days later—her current state wasn’t fit for work.
The two sat quietly on the town’s bus. Annie, seated beside Le Qing, hadn’t heard her speak for a long time. She lightly tapped the seat in front to create a sound.
Sure enough, Le Qing snapped out of her thoughts. "Hmm?"
"If you can’t bear to part with them, why insist on giving the children to someone else?" Annie cut straight to the point.
Le Qing froze, then let out a soft sigh after a long pause. "My current state isn’t suitable for raising them."
"Why?"
"I feel lost about my own existence," Le Qing murmured. "The documents Jiang Suizhi’s father showed me made me question my connection to this place all over again."
"Annie, do you believe this?" She turned to gaze at the fairytale-like town, its beauty feeling surreal—just as it had when she first arrived in this world. "I don’t know where I came from, or where I’ll go next."
Unexpectedly, Annie answered without hesitation. "I do."
She leaned back, arms crossed, her sightless eyes unfocused as a faint smile touched her lips. "Four years ago, I felt the same way. For years, actually."
"What?"
Unlike Le Qing’s hesitation, Annie had no qualms about revealing her past. To her, life was about living in the moment—satisfaction mattered more than consequences.
Lazily, she explained, "Since childhood, my health was poor, and I couldn’t see. So I stayed home. Everyone thought I was a delicate princess, fragile and sensitive. But honestly, my memories of those years are hazy, like a foggy dream—just fragments of emotion. I only truly started living four years ago."
Le Qing blinked. "When Lvy said you’d recovered?"
"Yep." Annie shrugged. "That’s when I felt alive, like a real person. There’s something else, though—something strange."
"Hmm?"
Annie turned toward her, her pale eyes glinting faintly. "I’ve never seen colors or images. But after meeting you, my mind started conjuring scenes I’d never experienced. In one, I’m speaking Chinese with a child, climbing a hill to watch kites. The child promised to buy me countless kites, planes, even spaceships when she grew up—so I could fly higher."
Le Qing’s breath hitched.
"So I believe you," Annie continued, unaware of her reaction. "Because my origins feel just as inexplicable. Like I’ve told you, I’m searching for answers too."
"Kites…" Le Qing’s voice trembled. "Was it the kite I gave you?"
"Maybe."
The bus rolled onward, silence stretching between them until Le Qing finally found her voice again. Staring at Annie, her vision blurred with tears.
"The day we met at the hotel, I also remembered a scene I’d never seen—a sister holding my hand, vowing to protect me forever, to become family." Her words choked with emotion. "I didn’t know who she was, but I felt it had to be you. I didn’t understand where this feeling came from. Since then, I’ve been terrified. Lost."
Especially after seeing the report Jiang Suizhi’s father presented—the child in the photo identical to her younger self. In that moment, Le Qing’s usually sharp mind shut down.
When she first arrived in this world, assuming she’d transmigrated into the original host, she could detach herself—just tidy up loose ends and return to normalcy.
But realizing she’d physically crossed worlds planted seeds of doubt.
She clung to the children, scavenging every clue to justify staying. When she learned Jiang Suizhi wasn’t their biological father, she buried her origins, losing herself in the fantasy of being their aunt—hoping for an anchor in this life.
Yet reality kept shattering her defenses.
What she cared about wasn’t whether she was the children’s biological aunt—blood ties meant nothing to her.
Even if the children were left in the country, sent to their grandfather’s care, she had never truly considered leaving them for good. She just needed time to sort herself out.
What she cared about was who she really was.
The images flashing in her mind, the child who had suddenly died at five, and the name Le Qing—why did so many people use it? Why did so many care about it? And why was it such a coincidence that Eve had altered her appearance to look exactly like her?
She was afraid she might cease to exist one day, afraid that her disappearance would be as abrupt and unexpected as her arrival.
"Annie," Le Qing said hoarsely, "I suspect… I might be that child who died many years ago."
Because she died, she grew up alone in another world.
And then, at some point, she returned here, becoming a real Le Qing.
"Then what about me?" Annie laughed. "Am I supposed to be the sister you mentioned—the one who was meant to protect you?"
The moment the words left her mouth, both of them fell silent.
Piece by piece, the scattered threads came together. In the empty bus, the chaotic thoughts suddenly became startlingly clear.
Why had they both seen those scenes they’d never experienced?
Why were there so many eerie coincidences of fate?
Only one answer could explain it all.
Le Qing’s hands trembled slightly as she instinctively reached for Annie beside her.
If she really was that child who had died, and Annie was the sister she had brought into the orphanage to grow up with, then when five-year-old her died and passed into another world, her sister had lived on under the name Le Qing—until, at 24, she died and crossed into another body.
Le Qing’s head snapped up.
Staring into those eyes, she thought of An’an’s gaze—so clear, yet often carrying a depth far beyond her years.
"Annie," Le Qing enunciated every word, "have you ever heard the name Jiang Yan?"
